


Tumblr One-Shots

by katybear1128



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, More characters to come with the more one-shots I do!, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-13 05:36:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17482211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katybear1128/pseuds/katybear1128
Summary: I have a Tumblr that does one-shots upon request, so I thought I would publish them here as well. As the number of one-shots changes, I will add to the tags, depending on what the one-shot is. Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is the first one shot I've ever done for my blog, so I hope you enjoy. If you like what you read, come and scroll through my blog!  
> https://undertaleowl.tumblr.com/

Blossoming Relationship 

When you were born, you and your family received a bundle of flowers from the hospital. The supposed “mages” from back in the day had started the tradition, saying that the type of flowers you were given at birth determined your future; roses, of course, meant true love was in your future, but what type of true love was dependent on the color. Red for lover’s love, pink for admiring or revering love, or white for love between friends. Lilies meant prosperity and a fruitful future. Sweet William flowers represented fraternity and strength in friendships. However, when the hospital sent your family home with flowers, they were flowers that no one recognized.

“Because you’re completely unique,” your parents had joked.

The petals were reminiscent of the first pattern of petals on a lotus flower, but the flowers were a cyan-turquoise color that almost seemed to glow. Over the years, you and your parents had tried researching the flowers, but no dice.

You couldn’t help but feel disheartened. There was another part of the flower legend, one that had significantly more weight than just a vague sense of the future. Many people in this region said that your flower wouldn’t decay until you had met the person you were supposed to be with for the rest of your life. Supposedly, some random person somewhere had another flower that represented their soulmate, and it was the same deal. You were supposed to carry your birth flower with you in your pocket, but there was only a handful of people that did that anymore. The flowers didn’t decay, but for most people, they never decayed. Ever.

If this flower represented anyone, you would throw away all of your high school science textbooks into a fire, because each one said that the legend couldn’t be possible because your flower just did not exist. So, no soulmate for you. Even if it was just a dumb legend, it was still disappointing.  

As the years went by, you became even more determined to figure out what this mystery flower was. Not even for the sake of finding your supposed soulmate, just finding out why you had gotten the flowers you did when they weren’t supposed to exist. You went to the hospital where you had been born, and asked if they remembered when they got the luminescent turquoise flowers. The good news was that the lady who worked there as the hospital florist still worked there, and she remembered your flowers. However, she said that the flowers had been an anonymous donation, meaning they couldn’t be traced back at all.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You threw everything you had into researching flowers after that, seeing if you could find other flowers that looked somewhat similar as a comparison point. Finally, you broke some ground. Apparently, the Ebottian Golden Flower had a similar structure to your mystery flowers. Eventually, you became actually interested in your research, so naturally, you went to college to further study plants and got yourself a botany degree at Ebbot City University, where this Ebottian Golden Flower was common. On the night before your graduation, you whispered to your flower that you hoped that your degree helped you discover its secrets.

Was it just you, or did those words seem to echo around your room that night?

After studying it on your own time after graduation as a research assistant, you finally checked the DNA on the flower. The DNA comparison of the glowing flowers was an almost exact match to the Ebottian Golden Flowers. Only the size, color, and of course the glowing were different. Related species? Or the exact same species that happened to differ in appearance, like breeds of dogs? You didn’t have an answer, so you stuck with your studies as you quit your job as an assistant and opened up a flower shop that had a flower identification lab space in back. It was mostly for the struggling grad students who needed help acing their exams. Your own mystery flower was back there on a shelf, and watched over you as you worked.

When the monsters re-integrated into society, you weren’t all that affected, except for one isolated incident when the Monster King had come in and demanded flowers for trying to win back a loved one. Well-versed in flower iconography and color coordination, you put together an arrangement of purple hyacinths (regret), pink roses (admiration), and white mayflowers (a new beginning). He gruffly threw too much money on the counter and stormed out, the bouquet in his hands. Two days later, the monster queen stormed in, threw the flowers on the counter, said she appreciated your hard work, but paid you an equal amount of money to take them back.

Other than that, both monsters and humans frequented your store, but nothing had happened that was as dramatic as that.

Until one day, a skeleton with red eye lights strode into the store, looking a bit lost in the forest of foliage. You were finishing up a bouquet, so you called from the back.

“Be there in just a second! Feel free to look around!”

You could have sworn that you heard him mumbling about how coming here was a waste of time, but if he truly felt that way, then why was he here? You didn’t pay any attention to your customer’s grumpy demeanor as you tied a silver bow around the neck of the vase. You put the flower arrangement into a preservation fridge.

“So what are you in for today?” you chirped as you took your gloves off and put them behind the register. When you looked up, you tried to contain your surprise. You had seen this skeleton before, along with who you assumed was his brother, but they just seemed like they wanted to be left alone whenever you saw them strolling on the streets. The skeleton looked up from examining the yellow flowers. He looked a little shocked himself.

“You’re a damn human,” he said. You crossed your arms, trying not to look defensive.

“And you’re a skeleton. What’s your point?” you asked. He rolled his eyelights.

“I’m not here to talk politics of species differences, sweet cheeks. Tori-I mean the Queen, said your arrangements are good and that you know tons of shit about flowers. Usually, she doesn’t take a shine to adult humans easy,” he explained. You hummed in acknowledgement.

“Alright, fair enough.” You straightened, ready to get back to business, but your chest had grown tight for some reason. It felt almost...warm? You mentally pushed to observation aside. You were probably catching a cold or something. “What are you looking for today, Mr. Skeleton?”

Instead of answering, he nodded his head towards the “take one flower” vases. “What are these flowers?”

You walked over and looked at the vase he was pointing to. “These are buttercups. They’re smaller, so if you’re wanting to give them to someone, you’d be better off getting one of the buttercup bouquets,” you said, pointing to the other side of the store where all of the generic bouquets were kept. He nodded, looking at the buttercups intensely. “If you were wanting to give them to someone, you’d better be trying to ask that someone out. Unless they’re a baby. ”

He looked at you like you had grown two heads. “What?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Buttercups represent childhood or childishness. Many people give buttercups as gifts to new parents, for their baby’s room. Or, it’s because they are courting someone you just started seeing. Like, your relationship is in the childhood stage,” you explained. The skeleton blinked before he started snickering. You straightened again, more than ready to go on the offensive. “What?”

“It’s nothin’,” he chortled. “Jus’ sounds like a load of crap, is all.” You felt your face redden.

“It’s not crap! It’s history!” You pointed a finger at the skeleton’s chest. “I’ll have you know that some people have studied this ‘crap’ and have documented it for years, centuries, even millennia! The Greeks and the Egyptians thought certain flowers were supposed to represent the afterlife, or some flowers were known for their healing properties. And hell, a lot of the flower meanings today remain unchanged. It’s a sign of human culture, not just silly superstition,” you asserted. He opened his mouth to speak before you cut him off. “I did my Capstone on this so called ‘crap’ do NOT try to contradict me.”<

He snickered again before raising his hands in an “I surrender” gesture. “I get it, I get it. You know your stuff. I jus’ needed to check.” You blinked and sighed.

“Fine. I guess if you’re really looking for a professional, then you have every right to test them,” you grumbled. “Got anymore tests for me before you tell me what you want?”

The guy’s cocky smirk decreased and for the first time since walking in here, he looked serious.  “I need you to identify a flower and tell me what it means. Like, the flower history and symbology an’ shit.”

“Iconography,” you corrected. “Symbology tends to represent more historical contexts. Iconography studies images and interpretations of more abstract concepts, like concepts in certain religious texts or emotions.”

Sans quirked a bone brow. “You really do know what you’re talkin’ about. Good.” He took out a plastic baggy from his leather jacket pocket and put it in your hand. “What is it?”  

You had a pretty good idea of what it could be, so you nudged your head to the back of the store. “Follow me.” He did, and you put on a new pair of latex gloves. You gently plucked the flower from his grip with a pair of forceps. You already had a good idea of what it was, considering you had lived in Ebott City most of your adult life. You grabbed a magnifying glass and examined the vein structure in the leaves. Nodding to yourself quietly, you went over to the computer and input the data. You did the same thing with petal pattern and the pattern of the stigma. You smiled to yourself when the search narrowed down to a few geological locations, all of which you knew very well. Your hunch had been right, especially when you were studying this flower for a long while to understand your own birth flower.

“Well?” the skeleton asked, obviously impatient. “Do you know what the flower is, or don’tcha?”

You held up a pacifying hand. He calmed down and waited for your explanation. “It’s an Ebottian Golden Flower. Super common, especially on the outskirts of Ebott City. The plains around Mount Ebott are full of them. I’m surprised you didn’t see them when you got out from under the mountain.” Just as his skeletal hand touched yours as he took the flower back, the flower withered into nothing but a black stem. You yelped as he looked down at it in shock. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I...I-I-I don’t know what happened! I’m even wearing gloves!”

While you fretted, the skeleton looked over your shoulder and his eye sockets widened. Suddenly, everything made sense as he saw a potted bundle of Echo Flowers was on your shelf. He grabbed the pot off your shelf and shoved them into your hands. You stopped freaking out and stared at him quizzically, though you felt your cheeks growing hotter with how intensely he was looking at you. “Where did you get these flowers?” he asked. You stammered for a little bit before answering.

“They’re my birth flowers,” you answered. “The hospital gives them to you when you’re born and they’re supposed to be with you the rest of your life.”

Sans nodded. “I know. Monsters have the same thing. I guess we did take some things from the Surface after all.” He went to touch one of the flower petals when he froze. “Do you have the legend too? About soulmates an’ shit?”

You nodded, taken aback. Why was he bringing this up?

Sans nodded back. “Sorry for this.” He gripped the stems. Just like his Ebottian Golden Flower, the Echo Flowers shriveled up, turned black, and gradually disappeared. You blinked.

“What…?”

It didn’t make sense. It seemed super unlikely that both of you had the same chemical on your hands that completely destroyed the innocent, beautiful flowers, but it still happened! What was the explanation?! What…?

You stopped short, the words of the legend coming up in your head for no reason. “The flower will not decay until you meet the one with whom you’ll share your days,” you breathed. You looked at Sans and realized that maybe the chest tightening was...attraction? “Oh, wow.” The skeleton let out a snort.

“That’s all ya have to say? You just found out your soulmate is a literal monster. And you’re a damn human!” He let out a an uneasy laugh. “I mean I came here to find out if I even had a soulmate but to actually find my soulmate? Like, what the fuck?”

You stood there, gobsmacked as your heart raced a million miles an hour. His smirk was kind of attractive in a “come closer, and I’ll bite you somewhere pleasant” type of way, if you thought about it. Fuck, you were already in so deep and you had met only ten minutes ago!

He smiled, but the smile seemed more cautious now. “Heya, I know this is sudden, but wanna come with me to Grillby’s? Even if we don’t get...ya know...together, we should at least get to know each other or some shit’ right?” Before you could even gather your wits, he ran a hand down his face. “What am I sayin’? I’m a skeleton with fuckin’ demon teeth and I’m asking a tiny human stranger to have lunch with me!” He looked at you one more time. “Sorry. Fuck everything I just said, yeah? Forget it.” He moved to run out of the room, but you grabbed his wrist before you even knew what you were doing.

“Hush. I’m coming whether you want me to or not.” He looked at you like you were crazy, so you cleared your throat. “T-to learn about the flower, I mean! I’m the only person who ever got those flowers as far as I know, and you seem to know what they are.”

He smirked. “That so?” You nodded, hoping that you weren’t red-faced. He shrugged. “Eh. Don’t see why not. Close up, toots.”

You did as he said, and he nodded at you to follow him. “Name’s Sans, by the way,” he said. “Sans the Skeleton.” You smiled and gave him your name. You both walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “By the way, you never told me what my flower means. It’s supposed to represent you or some other sentimental shit, yeah?”

Your face went bright red. There was no way in Hell you were telling him that it meant everlasting devotion and was indicative of a successful marriage. You wanted to see where your budding relationship with the snarky, sort of assholish skeleton led.


	2. Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Piss off a Mob Member’s Datemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mobfell Sans x s/o 
> 
> Based off of an imagine ask that I got, but this part got a little too long to be an imagine. So I made it a short one-shot instead! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like what you see? Visit my blog at https://undertaleowl.tumblr.com/

_ Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Piss off a Mob Member’s Datemate _

 

There was nothing to Sans that was better than a lazy day with his soulie. Big Boss had been getting his goat lately, so it was nice to just have a day where he didn’t have a single job, and his brother was actually working a shift at one of the Family’s fronts. Today, it was just him and his soulie, and life was actually good for the moment. They were still in bed, since they had awakened in the early afternoon. It was now 6:00 pm, since they had spent most of the day in bed, having… “doing exercise”.

He tried stroking his s/o’s side to get them to open their eyes, since they had closed them after the last round of “bed exercise”. His s/o groaned and tried to scooch away from his hands while he snickered at them.

“An’ you call me lazy, huh, doll?” he teased.

His soulie groaned again in response. Smiling evilly, he slowly trailed his phalange tip down the back of their neck, enjoying the way their skin got goosebumps. His s/o groaned way more loudly than the other times, and they threw a pillow over their shoulder at his face, which almost pushed him out of the bed. He made an “oof” sound, and he heard their muffled laughter.

See, this scene right here confused him. His s/o was gentle and lovey and calm most of the time, but then there were times where they showed strength without meaning to, or when they shot glares at whatever the object of his frustration was at the moment. Most of the time, he figured that he imagined whatever feisty fit his s/o had, but lately, he didn’t think so.

A knock at their apartment door made the two both groan. They both had a mind meld moment and decided to ignore the knock until it came again and again and again. Sans groaned one more time, and put his pants back on, and slouched to the door.

“Boss needs you,” Doggo grunted. Sans gave him a deadpan glare.

“No, he doesn’t. It’s my day off, damn it, he doesn’t need me, now breeze off, would ya?!” he snapped.

“He needs you, fucking tough,” Doggo retorted. “Get a shirt and let’s go.”

“No.”

Sans and Doggo turned to stare at the s/o who was standing in the door in nothing but a bra and underwear. “Stop right now. Sans isn’t going anywhere. You’re pissing us both off, and that’s not a good combo.” They both stared at Sans’ soulie while they snarled at Doggo. “If you’re so good at your job, take Sans’ place. And if you dare curse at Sans again, you’ll be missing your other fucking eye, capiche?”

Doggo didn’t answer, so his soulie slammed the door in his face before they stalked over and face-planted onto the bed.

“Get over here, skeleton, and love me. I’m sick of not having you near me,” Sans’ soulie said, their words muffled but distinguishable as they spoke into their pillows.

Sans took off his pants again, grinning maniacally. “Never knew you had such a backbone, toots. Ya got anything else you’re hiding? The s/o shrugged, their face still in the pillow.

“Dunno. Give me a massage and find out.”

The kisses that Sans placed on their neck promised even more “bed exercises” for the evening.


	3. Sick with a Fell Skellie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underfell Sans takes care of you when you're sick.

Sick with a Fell Skellie

Sans teleported into your house without any introduction. Since you were now datemates, it wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence anymore. Whether he was on break from work and he wanted to go somewhere else besides Grillby’s or his brother was getting on his nerves, sometimes it was just easier to short-cut to your place, even if you weren’t there. The house reflected you after all, so even if you weren’t there with him, you still were in a way. In fact, you weren’t supposed to even be home yet. 

So...why the hell did he sense your presence in the house? His instincts were proven correct when he heard a groan and a gag coming from upstairs, near your bathroom. It was open just a crack, but it wasn’t open enough for him to see what was going on. Cautiously, he climbed up the stairs and slowly pushed the door open. Since your head was practically in the toilet bowl, you didn’t see or hear you come in.

Now, don’t get him wrong, he liked seeing you on your knees (heh), but definitely not like this when you were obviously in pain, hence the groaning. He crept closer to you, and he had to keep himself from rushing out of the bathroom just because of the smell as he got closer. There was the familiar saltiness of sweat, but there was also something else. Summoning all of his non-existent guts, he looked into the toilet, and he couldn’t take it in anymore. 

“Doll, that’s fucking disgusting.”

Ever the gentleman. 

You reached back to punch him on the femur, but he felt just how weak the punch was, and it was obvious that whatever slime you were emitting from your mouth was hurting you too. He just sat down behind you and massaged tiny circles into your neck as he pointedly looked away from the toilet bowl. When your vomiting finally subsided, he reached for the glass on your bathroom counter, filled it with water and handed it to you. He didn’t imagine that the body slime tasted very good. You took it gratefully and spat the water back into the toilet, and he guided you into a standing position. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

You just shook your head and mumbled something about being sick and the stomach flu. He didn’t know what the hell a “stomach flu” was, but he did know about being sick and taking care of horribly ill-tempered sick people (*coughcough*PAPYRUS*coughcough*), so when he was positive that you weren’t going to slime him, he gets to work. He knew that you’re unlikely to be as pissy as his bro when he gets sick, but nevertheless he worked fast.

He set you up on the couch so you (a. Didn’t throw up on your bed by accident, (b. Could be closer to the kitchen, where the medicine was, and (c. Could have access to the television to distract you from your pain. Red also finds as many buckets that he can so that you could throw up into that and not have to move.  “I’m so sorry,” you croaked out after Sans had sat down next to you on the couch. He shrugged.

“Eh. Bein’ sick wasn’t exactly uncommon. This is a cakewalk,” he answered flippantly. “Now lie back, I gotta take that temp a’ yers.” 

You did as he said, and you looked at him strangely. “How did you know I need my temperature taken? I thought skeletons didn’t care about temperature?” you asked. You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but it helped distract you from the abdominal cramping. Sans made a wibbly motion with his hand.

“Kinda. We feel magic temperatures and can make our magic feel the temperature for us, but not really our thing. When we get sick, our magic’s temperature gets higher. Now ya gonna quit yappin’ so I can do this?”

Petulantly, you stuck your tongue out at him. However, you felt a shiver of relief go through you as you felt cool bone touch your temple. When you looked up, you discovered that it wasn’t his hand, but rather, it was his mouth, and the coolness was magic tingling across your skin. He snickered as you tried to muster a cute face.

“Doll, I know yer tryin’ for that cutesy shit, but it doesn’t work as well when you look like hell,” he said. Your face flattened, unamused. “Shut up, you know yer a mess. Now hold still.” He took out the high tech thermometer from his jacket pocket and held it against your temple as you looked hopelessly confused. 

“But...I thought you kissing my head was getting my temperature?” 

This time, Sans full out cackled. “I gotta have fun with you somehow, doll.” 

You threw a pillow at him, but he stopped the pillow in midair. You hated it when he cheated. 

“Plus, I’m a pretty damn good distraction.” 

You sighed. He had a point, and fuck, you loved him so much right now for just being here. You opened up your arms and looked at him pleadingly. He rolled his eyelights, but you didn’t miss the soft smile on his face. 

You were still sick, but he was the best distraction that there was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like what you just read? Visit my blog at http://www.tumblr.undertaleowl.com
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Sick with a Swap Skellie

Sick with a Swap Skellie 

He winced as he felt you get out of your shared bed, coughing raspily into your closed mouth. You closed your bedroom door and went to the other bathroom to cough and hack your lungs out into the sink so that you could spit out phlegm and rinse it down the drain without waking your datemate up. You had been doing better for a few hours, even managing to sleep without coughing. Then you had turned from your side onto your back, and it had gone all downhill from there. Sinus infections were apparently hell, and Papyrus had never felt more relieved about not having sinuses or mucous membranes in his life. Or even a nose!

He looked at the clock, and saw that it was 12:39 AM. No wonder you had woken up. Besides your coughing, you had taken your Advil for your headache four hours ago. You were due for another two tablets. He groaned quietly when he rolled out of the bed, and he grabbed the bottle of Advil Liqui-Gels and the cough syrup and shuffled his way to the bathroom where you were growling at your lungs while clearing your throat to bring up the excess phlegm. 

“Babe.” 

You spun around, and your expression immediately turned guilty. 

“Sorry,” you tried to say. Your voice was so soft and raspy that it might as well not have been there at all. With all of your throat contractions and the mucous rubbing up against the inside of your throat, it was a wonder that your throat hadn’t disintegrated into nothing.

He shook his head at your apology. “I was already awake,” he lied. He shook the pills at you, and your mouth dropped into an “o” shape in realization. No wonder your head was pounding when you woke up. You gratefully took them from him and you swallowed the pills with a swig of tap water. “Do you wanna take the--”

You glared at him, exhausted but willing to fight, daring him to say the next words. He sighed. “Babe, codeine is supposed to knock you out. Yeah, the medicine tastes like shit, but you’ll be asleep so quick that you’ll forget all about the taste,” he lectured tiredly. He may sound done with the world, but at this point he’d sit on you and tickle you so that you opened your mouth, and he could force the cough syrup down your throat. Sans did the same thing to him when he was a sick babybones, and he was not afraid to do it to you. 

You gave a soundless scoff as you tried to shuffle back to the bedroom, but he caught your wrist and spun you back towards him. He came up with another idea immediately. He opened the cap and chugged a few teaspoons of the medicine. Grimacing at the taste, he pulled you close to him, and he pressed his teeth to yours, gradually opening them so that the cough syrup spilled from his mouth in a controlled manner. Not immune to his skele-kisses, you opened your mouth. 

It was romantic in a very strange alien type of way, but slowly, the medicine trickled into your mouth. Papyrus was actually ecstatic that this was working so well, but he focused on getting the medicine into your mouth. 

Until a cough bubbled out of you, and you accidentally spat all of the cough medicine all over him, and Papyrus froze as he felt the cold bitter liquid drip from his face. You held your hands over your mouth as you pulled away, eyes wide and your expression completely mortified. Papyrus just stood there, twitching slightly, still processing what just happened. You tore the cough syrup from his grasp and chugged a few teaspoons, whimpering at the taste before closing the lid. You went into the bathroom and wet a washcloth for your suffering datemate. You thrusted the washcloth into his hands. 

Both of you internally screamed, you on your side of the bed and Papyrus in the hallway as he frantically scrubbed his face with the washcloth. Oh God, did it get in his eye-socket?! He should have stuck with his brother’s method.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for reading. Poor US Papyrus...he tried to be helpful, he really did!   
> If you like what you read, check out http://www.tumblr.undertaleowl.com.


	5. Sick with a Classic Skellie

Sick with a Classic Skellie

He was worried when you didn’t show up on time at Grillby’s for your weekly date night with him. At this point in your relationship, he wouldn’t have even thought about you ditching him, and all he was feeling was fear. Did the world do a strange reset thing and let him still live on the surface, but it was before he had met them? When he received a text with his nickname for you attached, all he felt was relief. That relief quickly turned back into concern when he read your text.

“Can’t make it. Feeling crappy. Sorry. Love you.” 

What did that mean? When he felt crappy, that meant his magic was acting up. But humans didn’t have magic, so what did you meant? Then he remembered that his magic came from his soul.

The next thing you knew, you heard a muffled crash and grumbled curse words coming from your living room because your boyfriend had teleported through your glass coffee table by accident. Unable to talk because your tonsils were swollen, you took off one of your slippers and threw it at him to get his attention. He turned and saw you, less than amused because of how little sleep you had gotten last night. He didn’t care that he had made you mad when at least you were alive, so he rushed to you and immediately checked your soul. 

Y/N L/N.   
HP: 20/20  
LV: 1  
ATK: 6/10  
DEF: 3/10  
Your datemate. Ill and is not feeling well. REALLY doesn’t want to go get a new coffee table when they’re better. 

Sans grimaced and put his hand down. Now that he learned that it wasn’t your soul that was damaged but your body, he was much more relieved. 

“Heh, sorry about that, verte-baby. Can I kiss you better?” 

You just shook your head and hugged him. Now that someone was here, it was harder to be calm, collected, and independent. You just wanted to feel decent, damn it. Sans hummed sadly, feeling your frustration, and all he could really do was rub your back in sympathy and make sure that you were properly taken care of. 

He’s so much calmer when he figures out that your soul is in no way damaged. At the beginning, he’s the opposite of his usual self, setting and resetting the nebulizer, coercing you to take the soothing cough syrup, taking your temperature periodically, and making sure he’s doing everything he can to make you get better faster. You text on your phone to him that he missed out on answering his calling as a nurse on the surface, and he jokes that you only wanted to see him in a nurse’s outfit. You threw your other slipper at him when he asked if there were any other outfits that you wanted to see him in, complete with a raised bone-brow. 

For real, though, he had the energetic and dramatic Great Papyrus as a baby brother. Of course he’s the master of being a nurse on sick days. After everything tactical is taken care of, he’s in bed with you, watching either game show re-runs on the Game Show Network or your favorite movies, with water and a bottle of Red Gatorade on your bedside end table.. If you’re too hot to cuddle, cool, the bed is big enough to give you both some space. If you need to squeeze your frustration away, he’s more than willing to sacrifice himself to you. 

“How are you this great?” you typed in on your phone before showing it to him. His eye lights softened in affection and he placed a skele-kiss on the crown of your head. 

“I’m not that great, verte-bae. Just...sans-ational.” 

You laughed breathlessly before coughing into your arm, the coughs scraping against your chest and throat like jagged shards of glass. He cringed at the worst part of taking care of you while Strep Throat plagued your life. 

Laughter wasn’t the best medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Thanks for reading. There will be one more one-shot with a sick skeleton coming your way, just not tonight. If you liked this one shot, check out my blog at http://www.tumblr.undertaleowl.com. Thanks so much!


	6. The Puzzle of the Fort

He decided that you were definitely acting strange and out-of-character. He could not determine exactly why or how you were acting strange, but when his gut told him something was off, then by the Angel, something was positively, absolutely, 110 percent off! 

 

The evening had been relatively normal and peaceful. You had welcomed him home with a kiss and had taken his suit jacket. He set the table for three (in case Sans decided to barge in, which was most nights) while you put the finishing touches on dinner. Tonight it was Pasta alla Genovese, a pesto pasta dish with garlic and olive oil, and you were just sprinkling in some Parmesan to top it all off. You had poured the wine, a sweet white Riesling which complimented the salty herbiness of the pasta. You had taken some French bread chunks to dip in the pasta, and that was it. It was your usual routine, so why was there something so off about it?

 

Wait.

 

“The jacket! You took my jacket off when I came in, and you went to the bedroom with it instead of putting it in the closet like you usually do,” he announced proudly. He smirked at you from across the table at your startled face. “Now why would you do that, amore?”

 

You may have been startled by his sudden proclamation, but your expression slowly morphed into a smirk that matched his own. 

 

“I don’t know, dear. Why would I do that?” you goaded, grinning at his confused expression. The puzzle had just begun, mostly because the game was a part of his surprise. He glowered at you. 

 

“I found out what was strange about tonight! You’re supposed to tell me why as a reward,” he protested. You pretended to consider his argument before you shook your head, chuckling at his almost betrayed expression. 

 

“Not how it works, dear. You’re supposed to solve the whole puzzle, not just a single portion of it,” you chastised him playfully. He looked at you and his smirk returned. 

 

“Are you challenging me, amore?” he asked. You shrugged.

 

“I don’t know. I think that depends on whether or not you think the situation is challenging.” 

 

And that’s how you ended up in a fireman’s hold as he walked through the evening step by step and action by action, thoroughly re-tracing every movement that had been made by both of you that evening. Finally, he made his way to the final destination-- the bedroom, because that’s where you had taken his suit jacket. Your beautiful creation was displayed in all of its glory, and his suit jacket’s arms were each tied to the rung of a chair, apparently acting as an entry way. Piles of pillows, blankets, and sheets made up a square base, and it looked like it was a structure of some kind. 

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t come here first,” you commented as he gaped at it. “I wanted to do something nice for us, so I did. Surprise!” 

 

He scrutinized it. “What is the point of this?” You wrangled yourself out his grasp and crawled under his suit jacket into the fort. 

 

“It’s a pillow fort,” you said, like it was obvious. Tentatively, he followed you, feeling a little foolish as he crawled on his knees like a babybones. You two sat in the middle of the fort. 

 

“There seems to be little structural integrity in this fort of yours,” he said. You snorted.

 

“It’s so we can take it down when the night ends, dear. Isn’t it comfortable?” 

 

Despite being bested by his mate, he begrudgingly admitted that this was quite a comfy and cozy atmosphere, and the sheets that acted as the ceiling of the fort dimmed the lights so that it almost felt intimate in a way, even though he had been bested. “Yes, I suppose so. So what now? What else does this puzzle entail?” he asked. You kissed him on the cheek and brought out some movies from underneath your pillows. He grabbed them from you and examined them closely before smiling softly. “That explains why we have full view of the television,” he thought to himself. 

 

“I see. Thank you very much, amore,” he said, nuzzling the top of your head. You smiled at him and went to put in the DVD. 

 

“I never wanted to best you,” you explained. “I just wanted to keep it as an after-dinner surprise. Seeing you so excited about a puzzle was adorable, so I just went with it.” 

 

He grumbled as a blush spread across his cheeks as you hit play on the TV and came back to him. You forced him to lay against the back rest of pillows as you snuggled into his chest. “All I want you to do now is to come cuddle with me and watch your favorite movie. Just relax.” 

 

He kissed you on the top of your head, the spark of his magic causing your hair to be all staticky, but nevertheless, you received your mate’s message, loud and clear. “I love you very much, amore.” You snuggled into his chest some more as you pulled a blanket over the two of you.

 

“I love you too.” 

 

“Ey! Where are ya two? You’s dinner’s still on the table, you know. I’m just gonna grab a bite real fast, kay?” 

 

You both sighed. “I’ll text him not to bother us for the night unless someone is dying,” Papyrus grumbled. Just in case, you went over to the bedroom door and locked it. Papyrus’s phone chimed in reply to his first text, and you read it over his shoulder. Your face turned red as you made a small “eep” sound at the raunchiness of the text. Papyrus got up and stormed to unlock and open the door. 

 

“SANS, DON’T BE A FUCKING CREEP! JUST EAT AND LEAVE US ALONE,” he screamed. You heard his brother cackle before he slammed the door and came back over to you, in your little cozy safe haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. If you like what you've read so far, feel free to stop by my blog!   
> http://www.tumblr.undertaleowl.com


	7. Two of a Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and UT Sans were simply meant to be.

Two of a Kind

 

When you met Sans, it was like a magnetic attraction pulling you towards puns and pranking and causing minor chaos. You and some friends had gone to Grillby’s, a favorite place among Surface-natives and monsters alike. The laid-back atmosphere, the broken jukebox that only played six songs, the best burgers and fries in Ebott City, and there was always the fact that the monster drinks were intoxicatingly delicious.

 

You and your friends were laughing at the bar instead of in the dining area because it was less crowded. As your friend was about to put some ketchup on her fries, the loose lid immediately caught your eye, and you grabbed the ketchup bottle from her hand and tightened the lid before handing it back to her. Your friend blinked. 

 

“Usually, it’s you who pulls that kinda crap,” she giggled before squirting an appropriate amount of ketchup on to her plate. You smirked. 

 

“Let’s just say if there’s gonna be any funny business for you guys, it’s gonna be because of me,” you said, eyes glinting confidently. “This amateur really needs to ketch-up on other restaurant pranks. That one’s the oldest one in the book!”

 

Your friends all groaned, and the friend you had saved from a ketchup disaster shoved some fries into your mouth to keep you quiet. Little did you know that there was a certain skeleton monster in a blue hoodie who smirked to himself, even if his ego had been slightly scratched by some random human. The human had challenged him, and he wasn’t planning on going down anytime soon. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his emergency whoopie-cushion and attached it to his hand.   
Your friends had all gone to the bathroom to freshen up, and you elected to stay to make sure no one stole their spots or their wallets. 

 

“Heya. So uh...I noticed you being kinda saucy about a ketchup prankster. You alright?” he asked. You gave him an amused glance and a snort of laughter before nodding.

 

“Oh yeah, we’re fine. I mustard the common sense to see that my friend’s bottle had been tampered with. It’s no big deal,” you said. His already permanent grin seemed to widen, and he motioned at the open seat next to you in the form of an unasked question. You gestured to the empty seat, intrigued and amused by this skeletal stranger in the blue hoodie. 

 

“I’m Sans, by the way. Sans the Skeleton,” he introduced, sticking out his hand. You stared down at the hand, and tried to keep in a smirk at the pink tab that . This must have been the ketchup prankster. You had expected it to be a kid, but a strangely charismatic, adult skeleton? Your night just kept getting more and more entertaining. 

 

“I’m really sorry, but I’m left-handed. Any way I could shake your other one?” you asked. You saw his grin falter a little bit, but he recovered quickly. 

 

“Heh, sure thing, kid.” He switched hands, and victoriously you grabbed his hand with you own, and immediately let your mouth fall open in shock. You could have sworn the whoopie cushion was in his other hand. He smirked at you this time, his white eyelights shining just a bit brighter. “Whatsa matter? Shake my hand.” 

 

You shook your head slightly, staring at the ground and smiling. You knew when you were bested, so you squeezed his hand fully, and snickered when fart noises came out of it. He smirk turned into a more genuine smile. 

 

“The old whoopie cushion in the hand trick. It’s always funny,” he replied, leaning forward on his elbows. “Like loosening the lids on ketchup bottles.” 

 

You shrugged with a giggle. “I didn’t know my criticism of restaurant and food pranks was eating at you that much,” you replied. Sans straightened and leaned forward even more. Oh, this was the most entertaining human (besides Frisk) that he had spoken to in weeks. He shrugged in feigned nonchalance. 

 

“Nah. Thanks for the condiment though,” he said as you took a sip of your cocktail. You choked on it in laughter and after grabbing your water for you, Sans the Skeleton laughed with you. As your friends came back onto the scene of a pun-versation happening, your friend just hung their head. 

 

“There are two of them,” she muttered to herself. The flaming bartender who had been watching the entire thing go down just sighed in silent agreement. 

 

A FEW YEARS LATER…

 

Sans woke up groggily in his hotel suite, immediately going to shake your shoulder to get up. Today was an important day, after all, and even if you both were lazy, you were not going to miss your damn wedding for it. His soul started beating ten times faster when he didn’t feel you snuggling next to him or moaning some sleep-deprivation related joke at him. He shot up in bed and saw Papyrus sleeping on the floor, still hugging his body pillow. 

 

Okay. No reset. He remembered now. Humans had the stupid-ass tradition that you couldn’t see your fiance or fiancee on the day of your wedding until the actual ceremony. You and a few of your friends were in your hotel suite on a different floor, getting ready for the big day ahead. He checked the time. It was 12:00, so you would probably be getting ready in an hour, just so that you could be ready to go for the pre-ceremony while your friends helped you into your outfit and generally with making sure you weren’t stressed at all while waiting. 

 

As if you knew he was thinking about you, he heard a chime come from his phone. A text, from you. 

 

“Heya, soon-to-be-husbone! I think I know how Muffet is going to get into a relationship,” the text informed. He felt his eyelights turn to souls and back as he texted a response. 

 

“Morning, verte-baby. And yeah? How’s that?” he texted back. Papyrus groaned groggily and sat up, stretching. He jumped when he saw Sans awake.

 

“Brother! Good morning! Did you sleep well? You need to be at the wedding venue at 5:30 PM, so we have time to go over every single detail of the ceremony. As your best man, I will ensure that your portion of the wedding goes off without a hitch,” he declared proudly. Sans chuckled.

 

“I bet it will be amazing, bro.” 

 

Even with his relaxed tone, there was an underlying excitement. It wasn’t just a human marriage ceremony, but a soul-sharing monster ceremony as well. As soon as you two bonded, then you would truly be able to call the other “yours” and while Sans had maybe been a little hesitant in the passing years about such a commitment, he knew that there was no one else he’d rather be bonded with. His phone buzzed again and he snickered at the response. “Oh my God Y/N.” 

 

“I bet she’ll find someone on the web 😂” you had texted back. If he listened really hard, he could practically hear you giggling at yourself while your wedding party groaned or begged you not to say any puns today, since it was your intimate, romantic, and very serious wedding.

 

“😘 You’re as sweet as the hotel room you’re staying in,” he typed into his phone. Before he could hit send, Papyrus got his attention. 

 

“Are you texting Y/N? I thought they said that you couldn’t do that,” he admonished. “They are following our traditions so we must follow theirs!” 

 

Sans shook his head. “Nah, bro, we only can’t see each other. Communication is the key to a good marriage after all.” 

 

Papyrus scrutinized his too-smug brother. “I can’t tell if that was a pun or not, but because it’s your bonding day, I shall let it go. However, we must go over your vows, and practice the motions for a bonding ceremony and get you dressed in your tuxedo and-” 

 

As Papyrus continued to list all of the things Sans needed to do to get ready for a wedding, Sans sent the text to you, his future mate. Not a minute later, Sans was convinced that you two were meant to be together for the rest of their lives. You had sent him a message with an attachment. 

 

“I know I’m not allowed to send a pictures of myself, but I thought I’d send you a little love,” the text from you read. He opened the message and cackled. It was picture of a tiny slip of paper that said “love” on it. He glanced at his bedside table and stared at the little “love” that he had written on the corner of a napkin that he had planned on sending them before the wedding. 

 

Together, you both were really two of a kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for reading. If you liked what you read, feel free to visit my blog at http://www.tumblr.undertaleowl.com 
> 
> Also, this was one of my favorites to write. Maybe because I related with Reader too much.


	8. On the Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G!Papyrus admires you for more reasons than you realize.

On the Radio

 

He was coming home from another night at the lab, and he was annoyed. His brother was more obnoxious than usual, making far more snide and snarky comments than what he himself had deemed necessary. Papyrus knew that the remarks were more centered around the fact that their research so far had been more inconclusive than what they were hoping for. So, it was no wonder that both of them were a little more than on edge. All he wanted to do was get home, hope the research sorted itself out in his absence, and relax, hopefully with you in his arms. He really hoped that you hadn’t stayed up waiting for him. 

 

He sent a quick text message to you that said he was on his way home. Even if you were asleep, it made him feel better to know that everyone was on the same wavelength about situations. He was thrilled to see the bus arriving just as he walked to the stop. Once you had found out that he couldn’t use as much magic as many other monsters, you made him promise not to teleport as much.

 

“But dearest, do you know how many germs there are on a single bus seat? How much bacteria repopulate every second on the grime of public transportation?” he had tried to cajole. You simply had raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“You’re a monster, you’re not infected by germs. Monster ailments are more personal and are transferred from soul to soul rather than through human germs,” you had retorted. In that one instance, he cursed himself for rambling to you about the intricacies of the average monster’s inner workings. 

 

“However,” he thought to himself, trying to cheer himself up, “The bus is never full at this hour, and the movement of the bus is rather useful for thinking.” 

 

The clouds hiding the moon and the muffled thunder indicated that some rain was on the way, so he was actually thankful for the bus that he used to detest. He got on the bus and saw only one other person, who was snoozing in the back of the bus. He sat in the middle, to observe the human in the back and to see any potential people entering the bus from the front. The bus driver, a girl in her mid-twenties with wavy, dirty blonde pixie cut, and large round-rimmed glasses switched the radio station.

 

“Is this station okay with you?” she asked, pointing at Papyrus in her rear-view mirror. He nodded, ambivalent. It’s not that he minded the music. It seemed soothing enough, nothing like the ruckus of noise that his brother liked to listen to when he worked. Papyrus didn’t really like music while he worked, but in an atmosphere like a bus, the distraction from the grunginess of the vehicle was welcome. After a few minutes of the first song, the second song began. A calming but still upbeat plucking of the violin echoed throughout the bus, almost matching up with the rain drops.

 

A piano joined in with the violin plucks. The jumping in puddles feeling in the music changed to a stick barely altering the course of a river, smooth but still rhythmic. 

 

“Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah-ah. Ah, ah, ah-ah,” the lady’s breathy voice sang in a crisp staccato. As the rain started, so did the beginning of lyrics. 

 

"This is how it works  
It feels a little worse  
Than when we drove our hearse  
Right through that screaming crowd…"

 

He didn’t know why, but the song vaguely reminded him of you. He was methodical and reserved, a gentleman scientist. You, compared to him at least, were more unpredictable, spontaneous. When you had wanted to go out for dinner one night, he was startled. 

 

“Did you not make reservations?” he had asked. You laughed.

 

“No. Most of the restaurants that do reservations are too fancy for what I was thinking. What kind of food do you feel like?” 

 

He had never done that before meeting you. Go to wherever to do whatever you were feeling at the moment. It was…

 

Uncomfortable. 

 

Troubling.

 

Worrying. 

 

Beautiful.

 

Exhilarating.

 

Fun. 

 

He didn’t know how you did it, but for someone who liked planning everything, he sure did like being spontaneous with you. The song was bubbly and switched from controlled to spontaneous, just like you and him. The sway of the bus and the pitter-patter of the rain added a sense of welcomed ambiance to the song, and despite everything at work, he felt content. 

 

All too soon, even before the song was over, his stop came up. He smiled at the driver. “Have a good night. Thank you.” 

 

The driver looked surprised at his thanks, but she gave him a smile in return. 

 

“Good night to you too, sir.” She let him off and he walked for about twenty seconds before entering his apartment building. After so fondly reminiscing about you on the bus, he was even more eager than before to hold you close. 

 

When he opened the apartment door, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the same station that had been playing on the bus echo through the apartment. Only, the voice sounded...different. Not a bad different. This voice was more clear, strong, and less breathy than the voice on the bus, sounding like a clarinet chorus rather than a flute soloist. He felt his strange soul thrum faster when he heard the first voice through the second voice when the volume of the song decreased. Was that…?

 

Quickly but quietly, he went over to your living room area. You were skimming over a magazine while lounging on the couch, singing almost absent-mindedly, and there was no doubt that the heavenly noise was coming from you. The second refrain’s climax began and all he could do was smile like a fool.

 

Oh, by the stars and galaxies above, you were perfect, weren’t you?

 

"This is how it works  
You're young until you're not  
You love until you don't  
You try until you can't  
You laugh until you cry  
You cry until you laugh  
And everyone must breathe  
Until their dying breath~!"

 

He rushed into the living room and kissed the crown of your head for as long as he could without seeming creepy. You craned your neck backwards to smile up at him. 

 

“Hey. Glad you’re home. You worked a little later than usual tonight,” you said quietly, as to not disturb your probably snoozing neighbors. You puckered your lips slightly to invite your boyfriend to kiss you, and he did so happily as the song ended. 

 

“Thank you for the concert, dearest. I am a very fortunate skeleton to have been your audience,” he commented. You smiled bashfully, and he had to restrain himself from sighing like a love-struck high-schooler when he saw a delicate blush dust over your cheeks. 

 

“Oh, you heard that, huh? Sometimes singing makes the place feel less empty when you aren’t here,” you explained sheepishly. He chuckled and came around the couch, and he offered his hand, almost seeming like he was bowing, like the gentlemanly skeleton he was. You took it, and you let out a squeak when he pulled you into another kiss, this one full of nothing but pure adoration. 

 

“Just when I thought that I couldn’t be any luckier,” he said as he pulled away reluctantly. You chuckled, honestly a little shocked by his sudden spontaneity. 

 

“You...really liked me singing that much?” 

 

“Absolutely,” he replied, not even missing a beat. “Especially because I was listening to this song on the bus, and the entire time I listened to it, I thought of you,” he admitted. You brightened.

 

“You were listening to this station on the bus?” you asked, amused laughter in your voice. “You were reminded of me?” You laughed again. “And this entire time, I was thinking of you!”

 

Papyrus felt his soul swell as he stepped closer to you. “You know, in science, they say that coincidences are highly unlikely?” 

 

You smirked and stepped closer to your boyfriend. “Oh yeah? How unlikely?”

 

He didn’t know what you did to him, but Papyrus smirked right back at you, suddenly filled with a sort of carefree recklessness that he had only seen you exhibit. “As unlikely as this, dearest.” He picked you up bridal-style and kissed you again. Seeing the pleased shock in your eyes made him chuckle. When he finally pulled away, you giggled weakly, a little breathless. 

 

“I guess we really are on the same wavelength, in more ways than one,” you retorted as you kissed his cheek bone, the scientific reference and the kiss making him beam like he had just won a Nobel Prize.

 

And to think, their mutual happiness and romance of tonight’s events had started with a song on the radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I hope you liked this one-shot. If you liked what you've read, feel free to check out my blog! Thanks for reading!
> 
> http://www.tumblr.undertaleowl.com


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